He began singing “Thoughts of Mary Jane,” and you could hear the sound of the buttons on his jacket hitting the guitar, the sound of the chair creaking, and midway through, just as it seemed like he was getting warmed up and settling into the performance, he changed directions, changed songs. No one could tell if he’d forgotten the chords or lost the words or simply grown bored and decided to move on. He settled into a rolling guitar figure, beautiful and stuttered and strangely uplifting, and he began singing the opening lines to a new song, new to me at least:

There are two parts to a corn holder. The first is a pair of spikes which are designed to penetrate the corn. The second part is a handle, usually made from a cool grip material so that it will not pick up heat from the corn. One corn holder is inserted into either end of an ear of corn, and the diner grips the corn holders to eat and manipulate the corn, rather than having to handle the corn itself.

The teak is carved and then formed around the skiff’s bulkheads and stringers. It has borne hours upon the pond, and sun-bleached months resting against the potting shed. Across the yard, the gambrel-roofed barn is filled with corn and alfalfa. The hayloft’s floor sags beneath its load of square bales. An oak rocking chair nods on the farmhouse’s back porch; the constant breeze sets the chair in nearly perpetual motion. Behind the rocker, a hunter’s longbow leans on clapboard siding.Continue reading →